Don't explode yet
Let yourself bleed
Don't close your door yet
The pain can cure anyhow
The cure to your wound
Is the thing that broke you
Close your door only to her.
Copyright © Elektra Real
I wish these walls would talk
Of your slavery in the dark
They would tell your throat’s pain
The countless times you remain
Talking throughout the night
Entertainer of the prized fight
Your buttons they push and poke
You overworked entertaining bloke
You are expected to carry the news
Tell the stories of the famed and abuse
If the walls that house your tired brain
Could talk how tired you are and lame
Then maybe someone would show pity
Allow you to rest so you could feel pretty
Copyright © Joy Wellington
I bleed white
I am feared
hating each sight
skeptical to everything
reluctant to each
like a lone king
who to everyone beseech
and numb fingers
sweating forhead sips,
mind's sap and lingers.
often swooning around
and hiding behind
can be seen dead on ground
I am success hard to find.
Copyright © Akash ripper
Dear little tear, I feel the tickle
as you trickle down my cheek.
I am wishing you safe journey
to the stream of tears you seek.
Find the river where tears gather
on their journey to the sea,
taking all our fears and troubles
as you’re doing now for me.
May you join soon with the others,
each of whom has played the role
a healing wash for sorrow
or a soother of a soul.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson
I look out to the waters,
And this is what I see.
A blanket made of darkness,
Draped across your body.
Death extending its fingers from shore to shore.
Creatures that once dwelled deep within your heart,
Are being plucked up by each wave.
Being placed upon your brow,
For all the world to see.
The scares upon your face,
bring much empathy.
Your blood was spilled,
And death was certain.
Oh what a tragedy!
Copyright © christie mills
WE USED TO BE SO CLOSE INSEPARABLE TIGHTER THAN ANY PAIR OF BLUE JEANS.
NOW WE ARE GOING DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS IT ONLY SEEMS AS IF WE WERE NEVER CLOSE.
IT SADDENS MY HEART TO US THIS WAY THERE IS NOTHING I WISH FOR THAN FOR THINGS TO BE THE WAY THEY USED TO BE.
I TRY TO GO ON BUT IT DOESN'T FEEL THE SAME IT SEEMS AS IF WE ARE NOT IN CONTACT WITH ONE ANOTHER.
YOU BECAME A MOTHER AND I MOVED AWAY BUT I KNOW DEEP IN MY HEART.
WE DRIFTED APART AND BECAME DIVIDED INTO OUR OWN WORLD.
Copyright © Quondreika Cheatham
Uneasiness or pain, due to loss best describes my existence,
My name is Sorrow and though many try to avoid me,
No one can keep their distance.
I live strongly in the families of Malcolm X, Dr. King and JFK,
Some use me as an inevitable excuse to escape the every day.
I will never die, though people kill themselves for me to continue my mission,
Whether you be rich, happy, beautiful
I strike you in any condition.
Like a common cold, I don’t disappear, Im just dormant
But happiness is a medicine, not a cure
To strike you, I need no consent
Copyright © Doreen Wright
There is something
Sad about ghost
Who have not yet
Found their way
Tomorrow is our future
Just another day
They bring that prospect
Closely to mind
I pity the ghost
A projection from life
That live's threw time
I pity the ghost
For the role they played
And yet and still
I am not afraid
I pity the ghost
Who have no space
For the tragedy that
They've had to face
They should be revered
And not to be the subjected
To some kind of ghost chase
Fore they were once people
Who have lost their place
They are the true figment
Of the people who have died
And for whom so many have cried
Most of them were subjects
Their salvation denied
Fore some-how they
Were left so un-alive
Left to survive in spirit only
Maybe that is why
Some of them seem so lonely
There is a reason why
They shouldn't be treated that way
Fore what they need
Is for some-one just to pray
They have so many questions'
And emotions that which they
So prominently display
Only if they could some-how
Reconcile their spirit's that way
Then may-be somehow maybe
They will just go away
To say the least
They will be not reason
For them to go astray
Copyright © Gary Fields
The forest might not be mine,
But in my dreams i still cross that line.
my memories cant be forgotten
as i picture animals getting rotten.
I still want to hunt with pain,
but not to dream with any blood stain.
No to hunting,taking all animals as a pet
I hold them with care without a bullet,
though I have a meal without flesh
is like drinking water which is not fresh.
my career is no longer to kill,
But to watch the forest from a hill
My last words as I hunt no more
As I enjoy nature by the shore.
Copyright © Amin Tres
is it a waking dream?
is it a waking nightmare?
it be the thoughts of the deserted,
those who have nothing left to lose,
the ones who can go mute without a second thought,
the ones whose dreams overflow with the blood of others,
for they are the ones who see the sinister truth,
the end isn't near its always been there,
for you see the end is not when the world ends,
it is the last day you feel complete,
it is the day you feel worthless,
the day you see only the dark side of things,
the moment you imagine slaying the beast of which caused your pain,
for that is the day the innocence known as your "inner child" is finally slaughtered,
and when your become...,
Copyright © jospeh z/ lord-vile dupuis
UNSPOKKEN WORDS ARE MEMORIES LOST,
...COUNTLESS TIMES THE UNSPOKEN WORDS,
THAT HAVE CLOUDED MY HEART.
SCREAM OR SHOUT ANYTHING BUT SILENCE!
CALL OUT MY NAME AS I CALL OUT FOR YOURS,
MY SOUL LONGING FOR YOUR ACCEOTANCE AND LOVE.
LOOK INTO MY EYES AND YOU WILL FIND MY SOUL.
TOMORROW WILL COME AND MANY DAYS AFTER,
YET TODAY WE SHALL NEVER SEE AGAIN.
SHALL WE LOSE TODAY AS WE DID BEFORE?
IS TODAY THE DAY WE BEGIN TI HEAL?
UNSPOKEN WORDS HOLD DARKNESS TO THEM,
THEY THRIVE ON SHADOWS,
THAT WE HOLD WITHIN,
HIDING FROM OUR CONSCIOUSNESS.
HOLD CLOSE TO YOU THE PRAYERS,
I'VE PRAYED FOR YOU,
I LONG TO HOLD YOU CLOSE
TO MY HEART IN A CHILDS WAY.
Copyright © jennifer hedrick
The fallen leaves looking at the heavenly sky
and at my own doorstep they, in silence, sigh;
they often criticize my feet as I pass them by.
Day and night, they hang around, relentlessly
and never know that they, actually, bother me
from entering and leaving my place. My kitty
cat does not like them too, ‘cos they do crackle
as she tiptoes out, eagerly, to touch the sparkle
of the afternoon sun. Ah, today I have to tackle
the task of teaching them and myself. Luckily,
these delicate hands of yesterday are totally free
from the arid office, serving my boss with a tea
that I gathered them and place them in a shelter
of green, letting their last smile not just to loiter,
but for them to use it, for Earth to have a better
feel. Now, I see them not, yet they promised me
that they’ll be back once they’ve seen the beauty,
curved from their skin, of a blossoming cherry tree.
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago
The Almighty Tree of ancient origin,
You are rooted in the shrine of Deity
And today in your shrine are these sheep I offer thee
And as for the goats,
They are outside there.
Just beside you is the broody Hen
And over there, a dozen eggs.
Puff a little smoke Oh my Lord,
And let the foe feels the coca.
When my Skull begins to roll,
And the crow upon my soul,
Then the Saints go marching in.
But when the Owl surrounds the throne,
And the Claws begin to roar,
To thee I bow Oh helpless Sky,
And to thee I bow my helpless Sky.
Remember me Oh remember me
When the Birds begin to ring,
And the beads surround thy waist
Like a Giant but faceless Ant.
Plenty Cola-nuts I promise thee
And thy favorite till thy Kingdom come.
Freedom and Justice Oh my dear Lord,
And if possible, Eternal Life.
Copyright © Cosmos Darko
On a cold, wintry Christmas night
bright light on a manger shone
to fall softly upon a mother mild
cradling her little baby child.
Three wise men followed the stars
to thy beckoning door, Bethlehem,
bringing frankincense and myrrhs
to pay homage to the king.
Thy name is music to mankind's ears
proclaiming forth freedom and hope,
sweet like a chorus by heaven's choir
vanishing darkness and fear.
Yet, two thousand years thereafter,
what became of thee, Bethlehem?
now enclosed within high fences,
inside your captive people keeping.
On those cruel barriers are graffiti
imploring "Make love, not walls";
as I weep for thee, O Bethlehem,
where has thy promise gone?
Bethlehem is a Palestinian-populated city in the West Bank, administered by
the Palestinian Authority. It is now mostly inhabited by Arab Muslims and many
Arab Christians have left the city and immigrated abroad due to the harsh living
conditions. The city is surrounded by high concrete walls and no one gets in or
out without clearance from the Israeli Army guarding its checkpoint.
Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito
Gone the days, when in the morn.
It felt good to be born.
Healthy,radiant and fit.
Leap out of bed, toot quick.
Now I rise with painful cries.
What troubles are in store?
No-good ships sail this shore.
Gone the smiles I used to get.
Now only disrespect.
A burden and a trial.
Cannot run a mile.
Too old for love, not a chance.
Not a second glance.
Memories gone, best not gotten.
Sooner lost quicker forgotten.
Of the future, there is none.
For an old and lonely Norm
No good ships sail this shore.
Refers to Shirley Temple and
her song " On the good ship Lollipop"
Too old for love. I hope not.
Memories never gone, I live by them.
I have had a full life and wish for more.
Copyright © Norman Purvis
“Let’s fly!” said the little bird up in a tree.
“But I’m scared” said the bigger bird.
“Scared? You?” said the little bird,
“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall.”
“But the big wise owl,” said the bigger bird,
“he didn’t catch me, and the glorious eagle,
he didn’t catch me either, and I trusted them.”
“I may be just a little bird,” said the little bird,
“but I can do something they cannot..”
“What?” said the bigger bird.
“I can fly under your wing,” said the little bird,
“and help you learn to fly on your own”.
So the little bird took wing,
And the bigger bird flapped its wings real hard,
Closed his eyes and left the branch.
As he felt himself falling, he began to doubt,
“The bigger birds that I trusted with their size and
Strength all let me fall… that little bird won’t save me either.”
And just as fast as that thought began,
He felt a little tickle under his wing,
And gently he began to fly right.
And there, under his broken wing,
Was the little bird, balancing his wing on top of him.
“You… you aren’t going to leave me?”
Said the bigger bird.
“No,” said the little bird, “you need help,”
“your wing is broken and needs to heal.”
“Thank you, little bird,” said the bigger bird.
“Don’t worry,” said the little bird,
“It’s a long journey, but I know the way”.
So the little bird helped the bigger bird
Grow strong enough to fly on his own.
And one day, the bigger bird ventured out
All by himself and discovered he could fly.
“I can fly all by myself now!” sung the bigger bird.
“I see..” said the little bird feeling unimportant.
“Don’t worry”, said the bigger bird,
“I won’t leave you either.”
“Even though you don’t need me anymore?”
Said the little bird.
“I need you now more than ever,” said the bigger bird,
“for you never let me fall and stayed the whole way,”
“and on that journey I learned something else..”
Said the bigger bird.
“Oh?” said the little bird.
The bigger bird bent down to the little bird and said,
“You needed me too”.
Copyright © Tammy Armstrong
The crying game
The burdened tears,
That follow hearts
Life and all her
That she counts,
On one hand
With an empathy,
She aptly calls
The wistful wit
That all has yet
As long as we
Unwilling to deny,
That those who seek
Expect a sure reply.
Copyright © William Ward
Will you come and save me?
I am wrapped up in fear.
Come and hold me.
Run your fingers through my hair.
Tell me things will be alright.
I feel so lost without you.
I am left to battle alone.
Will you come and save me?
Copyright © Amber Whitman